


Richie's Down & Dirty Cleaning Service

by tinyarmedtrex



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, Poor Man, Richie takes everything to an extreme, Stan is just trying to read, We knew it, losing a bet, lots of fish net talk, sexy maids outfit, turned into sexy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 03:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17696606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyarmedtrex/pseuds/tinyarmedtrex
Summary: Based on the prompt: “I lost a bet to you and the circumstances were supposed to be a joke but I took them seriously"





	Richie's Down & Dirty Cleaning Service

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leighwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighwrites/gifts).



Stan sighed deeply as he looked at Richie again. He couldn’t get over that he was really doing this. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised, Richie was never one to half ass anything but this- 

“Richie, really, you don’t need to do this. It was a stupid bet.”

“Now, dear Staniel,” Richie tickled his nose with the feather duster. “I have never welched on a bet before and I do not intend to start now.” Richie turned back around, continuing his dusting of Stan’s already meticulously clean apartment. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose Stan looked away. It wasn’t just that Richie was there to clean his apartment. It was the outfit he was wearing while doing it. He had rented a french maid’s outfit- complete with the little hat, very short skirt and fishnet stockings. Stan had gaped at him when he opened the door and saw that outfit. Richie’s only comment was ‘If I’m doing this I’m playing the part.’

And that was exactly what Richie was doing.  Both had been drunk from cheap whisky when they made the bet but Richie had followed through with it. The bet had occurred a few weeks ago, when all the losers had been drinking at Mike and Eddie’s apartment. The terms were simple. Richie had said that he could go longer without making a ‘your mom’ joke than Stan could being sarcastic. Stan had eagerly agreed, sure that he could coax a your mom joke from Richie if he brought up Sonia more than once. The night had moved on and, surprisingly, both had stubbornly held to the terms.

 It went on until the next morning when all of them were out at breakfast where Richie made a joke about how Ben’s mom would enjoy a cold press. It wasn’t even a good joke but it meant that Richie lost. Stan had preened that he won- even if he was fairly certain he had won on a technicality- because the previous night an equally intoxicated Ben didn’t know he was being sarcastic when he mentioned how much he loved the musical Rent- but he wasn’t going to point that out. He had enjoyed his win and let it go. The pair always made dumb bets when they were drunk, rarely following through on them. 

For some reason though, Richie was determined to follow through on this one. The agreement was that Richie would be Stan’s maid for the day- fetching him anything he wanted and cleaning his apartment. Stan had told him to forget it, that it was fine, but Richie was undeterred. He had showed up at 8am sharp wearing that ridiculous outfit and trying out an awful french accent.

“Richie,” Stan started as Richie began to dust his books.

“Oui Monsieur Uris?” He asked, turning around and fluttering his eyes.

Stan bit back an annoyed sound and shook his head. “Nevermind. Just be careful with the sculptures.” Stan had a row of carved bird sculptures from an artist he liked. Richie had gotten him the first one and he’d liked it so much he sought out the others, all of them now took up two shelves in his living room. 

With a shrug Richie turned back around and Stan went back to trying to read. It was nearly impossible. Normal Richie was distracting. Richie pretending to be a maid was worse. He was humming ‘Be our guest’ under his breath as he moved around the room, mostly fake dusting Stan’s possessions. That wasn’t the worst part. The skirt he was wearing was much too short, covering less than half of his thighs and giving Stan a perfect view of Richi’s legs. The fishnets were especially distracting. Stan’s mind keep wandering to how they’d feel under his hand, how he could reach up them and touch all of Richie so easily, especially in that tiny skirt. 

He shifted uncomfortably, grateful that he had a blanket covering his hips. Richie heard his movement and whirled around. “Do you need something master? Juice or a snack?” He fluttered his eyes again as he said it, making them grow larger in mock innocence. 

“I’m okay.” Stan wasn’t going to let this going any further then it needed to. 

“But I’m yours all day. To serve you however you need.” Stan could have sworn those last words meant something besides getting him water. But he shook it off. That was just Richie being Richie. Richie stared at him, waiting for Stan to respond. 

“Fine. How about some cheese and crackers?” Something that Richie couldn’t mess up. Probably.

With a nod he bounced off, the ruffles of the skirt flying dangerously high as he did. Stan forced his eyes back to his book. 

Before long Richie was back with a plate of cheese, crackers and even apple slices. He slid the plate onto Stan’s coffee table then looked at him. “Would master like me to feed him?” Richie asked, watching Stan. He picked one up, offering it to Stan, who was sorely tempted to agree, just to let Richie get closer. But he knew it would be too much temptation. 

“Stop calling me that. It’s weird.” Richie just shrugged and Stan added, “No I can feed myself.” Richie nodded and went back to cleaning, now on Stan’s lowest shelves. Stan grabbed one of the crackers, taking a bite before glancing at Richie again. His ass was in the air and the skirt had fallen, revealing- 

Stan started to choke, quickly grabbing water. Richie shot up, alarmed. “Are you okay?” 

“You aren’t wearing any underwear!” Stan said, trying to catch his breath. Richie bending over had given him a full view of everything. He brushed the flecks of cracker off his sweater, his heart hammering in his chest.

“It ruined the lines of the fishnets!” Richie explained. “I couldn’t get my boxers to fit under them!” 

Stan just closed his eyes. Richie was going to kill him. He was going to die from Richie’s stupidity and his own hard on. “It’s fine- just- damn- don’t bend down anymore.” The mental image was burned into Stan’s head and he was having a hard time concentrating. He put down his book, instead turning on the TV and returning to his netflix queue. 

Things were quiet for a while, Richie actually getting some cleaning done while Stan watched Great British Bake off. 

“All those soggy bottoms.” Richie commented as Paul Hollywood gave a disapproving head shake. 

Stan snorted, watching Richie finish wiping the table with a clean rag. He was impressed, he had expected Richie to be a careless cleaner and that he’d have to clean everything again but he was really trying. He had even brought his own bucket of cleaning supplies and it wasn’t just paper towels and febreeze. 

“What’s next?” Richie asked, turning to look at Stan. He noticed that Richie was a little sweaty, a bead of it rolled down his neck and Stan’s brain screamed that his hand should follow it. 

He tried again to convince his friend to stop.  “Richie you can be done, it’s fine.”

“I’m here all day Stan, you better make the best of it.” Richie replied, running the feather duster up and down Stan’s torso. Stan suppressed a shudder. This was just Richie, he reminded himself. 

“Any other orders? Or I’ll go get busy in the bedroom.” Richie punctuated this with a wink. 

Stan swallowed thickly. “Bedroom is fine.” He said, watching Richie turn around, the skirt flying high. Once he left Stan let his head fall back, rubbing his hands over his face. He needed to stop these thoughts about Richie. But he couldn’t, especially knowing that Richie wasn’t wearing anything under the skirt. He could run his hands up those fishnets and just touch him-

  1. _NO_. 



Stan stood, getting a big glass of water and gulping it down. He was regretting wearing a sweater, he was uncomfortably warm but Richie was in the bedroom. He wasn’t sure he could handle any more of Richie in that outfit. Hopefully he’d leave soon and Stan could masturbate in peace. 

Finishing the water he decided to change into a shirt. It was still his room, he could grab clothes. 

“Hey Richie I just need-” He stopped dead in his tracks. Richie was stretched out on the bed, hand reaching near Stan’s headboard and hips high in the air. That damn skirt had fallen again and his ass was on display, the black fishnets stretched tantalizingly over it. Stan stopped in his tracks, wishing he could disappear. His pants were uncomfortably tight again and he was about to leave when Richie lifted his head, looking at coyly Stan over his shoulder. 

“Need help with something Staniel?” 

He didn’t know if Richie meant his erection but there was no way he didn’t notice it. His jeans weren’t hiding it at all. 

“No.” He forced himself to say finally. 

Richie stood and walked over to him, eyebrow arched. “Are you sure?” He ran a hand over Stan’s crotch, making him keen forward. “I’m here to take care of you remember? Anything you need.” 

“Richie,” He gasped out as Richie’s palm pressed against him. “What are you doing?” 

“Providing a service.” Richie said, his eyes staying on Stan as he unbuttoned his jeans, giving him a chance to say no or to leave. Stan did neither. “Do you want this Stan?” He asked, playing with Stan’s zipper. 

Stan nodded and Richie grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He pulled the zipper down, pushing Stan’s pants to the floor before getting on his knees, kissing Stan through his briefs while he slowly ran his hands up and down Stan’s thighs. The kisses were light and teasing, making Stan impossibly hard and frustrated. His hands found Richie’s hair, gripping it to keep himself grounded. 

“Richie, fucking do it already.” Stan demanded after a minute, too keyed up for all this.

Richie looked up at him through his lashes. “I always thought you’d be dominating in bed.” With a smooth motion he pulled down Stan’s boxers before adding, “Master.” Before Stan would respond Richie’s mouth was on him, swallowing all of him. Stan’s hips stuttered forward, following Richie as he pulled back. Instead of deep throating him again though Richie started leaving kitten licks on the swollen head, teasing him again.

Stan waited for a minute before tugging on Richie’s hair, forcing him to look up. “None of that.” Richie looked up at him with so much lust that Stan half though he would cum then. But he refused, he had other plans. “Let me fuck your mouth.” 

Richie nodded eagerly, parting his lips, already slick with spit. Stan took himself in hand, tracing Richie’s lips with the tip of his erection, teasing him by drawing back as Richie leaned in. His other hand was still in Richie’s hair, holding him in place. “If it’s too much you’ll tell me? Tap my leg, okay?” 

Richie nodded. “It won’t be, wreck me Stan.” He licked his lips, letting them glisten with precum and spit. 

Stan groaned at the words, barely able to resist the urge to shove his dick into Richie’s mouth. But he resisted, instead saying, “You look so good like this Richie.” Stan said, watching Richie’s blown out eyes and how they followed his erection. “That fucking outfit.” 

“I got it for you.” Richie replied. “Wanted you to fuck me in it.”

That did it, Stan pushed himself into Richie’s mouth, thrusting until he hit the back of Richie’s throat. Richie moaned around him, letting Stan take control. Stan set a rough pace, not letting up as he rammed into Richie’s mouth. Stan let the feeling overwhelm him, Richie’s mouth and those noises, stopping when he felt himself growing close.

“Get on the bed.” He ordered. Richie wasted no time, throwing himself on the bed. 

“How to you want me?” He asked, sitting up on his knees and looking at Stan. 

Stan crossed to him, pulling Richie in for a long kiss that Richie eagerly returned. Stan tasted himself on Richie, something he normally hated but right now couldn’t get enough of. 

“Turn around.” He said, breaking the kiss. Richie turned, sitting on all fours. Stan moved the skirt and finally got to run his hand Richie’s ass, feeling it under the fishnets.  “Don’t move.” He went to his bed stand, grabbing condoms and lube. Returning he added lube to a finger then started to open Richie up, pleased that the holes in the stockings were big enough that Richie wouldn’t have to take them off.

As he opened Richie up he let his other hand roam other the stockings, listening to the small sounds escaping from Richie. “You knew this was going to happen didn’t you?” Stan asked, adding another finger. “Feels like you opened yourself up already.”

Richie didn’t answer immediately and Stan crooked a finger, making him cry out. “Answer me.” He demanded. 

“Fuck, yes Stan. I was hoping it would. Stan come on, fuck me.”

“Gotta make sure you’re nice and open.” He said, not stopping his movement. “That’s what you want right Richie? To be fucked good and slow.” 

“Shit Stan, yes. Come on.” Stan added another finger in response, opening him up slowly and relishing in the begging. Whenever Richie started to push back, eager for more, Stan would stop, waiting until Richie stopped his actions before moving again. It was torture for him too but it was so worth it to hear Richie fall apart. 

Finally Stan didn’t want to wait any longer. Slipping his fingers out he opened and rolled on the condom, adding more lube to it. “Are you ready?” He asked positioning himself at Richie’s entrance. 

“Stan I swear to God if you don’t fuck me I’ll-” Richie was silenced as Stan pushed in, barely giving him a chance to adjust before he started to thrust. Richie was panting into the mattress, incoherent words tumbling from his lips as Stan moved. 

“Shit Richie, you feel so fucking good.” Stan ran his hand over Richie’s back, feeling how tense he was. “You could cum like this, huh, untouched?” He asked, slowing his thrusts, nearly fully pulling out before pushing back in.

“Stan, fuck. Maybe.” Richie’s voice was wrecked as Stan continued. 

“I don't want that though. I’ve wanted to touch you all damn day. Those fucking fishnets.” Stan said, his hand roaming down Richie’s hips and to his leaking erection. He palmed it over the cloth, teasing Richie by not quite grabbing him. He wanted to enjoy how it felt, how Richie’s erection was straining against the webbing.  

“Stan-” Richie whined, trying to push down into his palm.

“This is what you get for teasing me all day.” He said, hand still moving over him without gabbing. “Now you know how it feels.” Richie whined again but Stan didn’t change his actions until he felt his own orgasm building. Then he quickly slipped his hand under the fish nets, pumping Richie as he came, Richie only a moment later. 

“Fuck.” Stan said, slowly pulling out of Richie and taking a step back. Richie turned, grabbing a tissue and handing it to Stan, letting him clean his hand and tie off the condom before standing and walking to him. 

“What was that?” Stan asked once he threw both away. Richie was still fully dressed and Stan was naked, starting to feel stupid until Richie crossed the distance, cupping Stan’s cheek and kissing him hard. 

“The start of something great.” Richie replied, kissing him again. It was a different case from before, warm and sweet instead of lusting. “You can go shower if you want, I’ll change your sheets. I’m still your maid after all.”

Richie took half a step away but Stan grabbed his hand. “We’ll both shower. Then the sheets. I want to see you without the ridiculous outfit.”

Richie grinned, stepping back to Stan. “Even better.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from my dear friend who got stuck helping me with some rude anons this week  
> Send me a prompt on tumblr- tinyarmedtrex


End file.
